By Charlotte Rose
Day 143 of genocide, and the whole spectrum of European solidarity with Palestine has been exposed. It ranges from those who’ve checked out, to others who – despite deep exhaustion – cannot think of anything else.
In January 2024 outside the ICJ, it was no different. Fewer than 800 people came to protest Israel’s case for their ongoing genocide of Palestine, and at least 200 of them had left by lunchtime. I was shocked. Whilst granted, the world’s highest court is steeped in imperialism and will not be Palestine’s ‘saviour’ – this specific case was lauded as a “historic” moment of solidarity. So why was barely anyone there?
I was not alone in my confusion. Stephanie, a decolonial queer activist and volunteer with a Brussels-based tea and coffee collective The Caddy, tells me that she also “found it really strange how people were just living their lives in the Hague” – in stark contrast to their Ghazzawi comrade, Omar Kream, who had travelled from Brussels to the ICJ on a 25 day hunger strike. I met them both between the screams and speeches outside the court; The Caddy was handing out fresh mint tea to cold protesters and Omar was chatting to comrades about his hunger strike.
When I asked Omar about the European solidarity movement for Palestine he admitted that “the struggle had not come to the level that it should have reached.” As he lamented, “our voices are not enough” – so he was instead compelled to go on hunger strike until the genocide stops. We exchanged disappointment about the low turnout and then Stephanie thoughtfully interjected with a truism that has stayed with me ever since: “white supremacy does really hold on to comfort though.”
It made me think: what are our limits when it comes to solidarity with Palestine? How far are we willing to go? And what does our unwillingness to relinquish comfort say about our politics of care for Palestine?
By Charlotte Rose